The Power of a Good Education
by Rhino109
Summary: Harry, in a fit of Luna-like planning, decides the best way to get rid of Voldemort, and by extension avenge his Godfather and so many others, is to use the power Voldemort really wouldn't know ANYTHING about. Muggle powers. Does he use a gun? A bomb of some kind? Perhaps martial arts? Nope! Read to find out! [Crack-fic]


A wicked, chilling laugh threaded itself through the air of Grimmauld Place. Ice - left from the recently-passed winter - seemed to melt even faster at the sound and, by extension, it's source. The small park behind the source of this evil glee shook with a stronger wind for but a moment, ruffling the cloaks of the assembled army.

Harry stood atop the stairs of number twelve, Grimmauld Place; a mostly invisible home that had suddenly popped into existence no less than an hour ago. Before him, just behind the deadly wards - which crackled ominously every now and then - stood a small army of silver masks. With sick, hidden joy he watched as they converged upon his house. _His_ house, now that his godfather - worse, the _last_ person he considered family - had tragically been killed some months prior.

Leading, or rather looming over, the herd of Death Eaters was a tall… man, if you could call him that. His skin was a pale grey, like the sky on your average London day, and his eyes a vibrant red - though more like an apple than any ruby or rose. His nose seemed rather flat, almost snake-like if Harry were to be honest. He didn't seem to wear many clothes if the half-opened front of his robe was anything to go by, but he did wear said solid shadow which passed for, indeed, a robe. In his hand, which despite his grey skin retained a hint of pale peach on his palms, he held what looked like a bone carved to a point, and polished each day like a trophy, producing a glitter from the sunlight.

This man, if you could call him that, was the source of the quite diabolical laughter, of which he had extended well beyond its 'intimidation period' and dragged it right through 'awkward' to the point of being 'quite funny' fast nearing 'what is this guy even doing right now'.

Harry put as much effort into keeping his face straight as one would into not burning an omelet; it was hard but if you had done it once or twice you could get it done easily. Eventually the man - thing - stopped, though he had come incredibly close to changing his category.

"Harry… Harry… Harry… What have you done here? Do you want some _help_? It seems your wards have fallen, quite a disastrous situation. Perhaps we could assist you in rebuilding?" he mocked, voice laden thick with sarcasm. Harry glared, but only in an attempt to not do one of two things; run away in terror, or laugh until he suffocated.

"Not up for talking? Well, I believe you should ask us in for a cup of-"

"Tom, when you were a ickle muggle boy in a ickle muggle orphanage, did you go to school much?" Harry sniped, cutting the man off. He had timed the comment as perfectly as he could, though doing it by eye without giving away his plans to any muggle-savvy death eaters, if such a thing existed, had been a task.

The man - thing - before him changed his expression so fast Harry imagined he would need a potion or two to remove the whiplash, but it wouldn't be possible if his plan worked. _If_ his plan worked.

" _DO NOT USE THAT NAME!_ " the now named 'Tom' thundered, his surprisingly - and rather underminingly - high-pitched voice being met with the quiet thrum of a passing engine. Several of the death eaters seemed scared, worried, or amused by the passing vehicle. Harry was just shocked they didn't destroy it; not that he let them know that.

"What name, Tom? I notice you didn't answer my question." At this point, several of the clusters of robes and masks seemed to mutter in confusion. Muggle? What on _Merlin's Balls_ did 'ickle' mean? Those sorts of things. Harry had to put a disturbing amount of effort into not scoffing at their ignorance. He supposed the masks didn't help with that. How did they even see?

"Pathetic half-blood!" 'Tom' spat angrily, actually spitting in his rage, which annoyed a few of the Death Eaters who were groveling a little too closely and were rewarded with a healthy dose of sputum. "My name is _Lord Voldemort_!"

Another disturbing amount of effort not to scoff.

"It's a shame you didn't get much schooling in, though I assume it's difficult to afford schooling in an orphanage. Ever hear of this thing called 'gravity'? No? Well, sucks to be you, I suppose. I won't explain it to you, a demonstration would do much better, don't'cha think, Tommy boy? I myself learn by watching better than I do listening. Quite bad at listening, hearing damage from a stray killing curse. Ever had that? Guess not. Anyways…" Harry lazily pointed his wand far, _far_ above the Death Eaters, causing some of them to laugh at his apparent idiocy.

" _Verlate Ascendileh!_ " Harry called, causing another round of laughter from the assembled ignorants. The timing. Was. Perfect. The spell had been cast, and its energy wrapped almost possessively around a passing bus. Thankfully the driver was easily frightened.

The second his bus had stopped and floated about a foot into the air, he had ran like _lightning_ down the street. The bus itself had, thankfully, been empty. Not many people taking the bus in this weather. The spell finally wrapped around the back end of the bus and launched it up into the air.

The whoosh of wind caused several Death Eaters to turn, but they were too late. A huge chunk of red hung above them. A double-decker! Lockhart's failed spell had worked perfectly as the bus hovered for but a second before falling back to the ground. Several pops were followed by loud whimpers as the previously invisible anti-apparition wards that now covered the street rippled like a wall of yellow light in several places.

With one last yelp, surprisingly from ' _Lord Voldemort_ ', the assembled Death Eaters and their mighty lord were crushed beneath sixteen tonnes of steel. A loud _thump_ was followed by the crashing of breaking windows, and the crinkle of glass hitting the concrete. Harry grimaced at the sight, then waved away the anti-apparition wards, successfully re-powered the Fidelius and disapparated away.

To say that Dumbledore would be surprised would be an understatement. Who knew that a lack of muggle education, and therefore not knowing what _gravity_ is, would be the power-he-knew-not. Dumbledore learned, on that day, that gravity was, indeed, powerful; most especially when aided by a large-mass and ignorance.

He vowed to himself that, as an educator, he would teach his world of this 'new' strength, this entire _world_ that had been _so strong_ it fought the Dark Lord, and all thanks to the boy-who-lived.

And so, the prophecy had been true. The power he knew not was, most obviously, a double-decker bus to the face from thirty feet in the air. How poetic, Harry thought, as he sat on the Knight bus on his way to Diagon Alley. He needed a butterbeer.

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 **So, my attempt at a one-shot to get me back into writing. Sorry it's bad, I just wrote this in the last twenty-so minutes. As usual, idea has been knocking around in my head for a while, but only as a joke I keep telling to myself, that the Dark Lord wouldn't have been educated on Muggle things before going to Hogwarts, due to the educational system back then and him having no funding or parents. They would've gone to school and learnt English and basic maths, but college would've been where "higher-level" things like physics would be taught, or high school. This is my warped version of the whole "Harry with a gun because Voldemort doesn't know muggle weapons" thing, but... you know... with a bus... As you can tell, I still** ** _suck_** **, like...** ** _unbelievably suck_** **at Dialogue. I try, okay? Give a guy a break, jeez...**

 **Hope you enjoyed it, but if you hated it... that's cool. Thanks for reading, I guess... Sorry? Meh. Review if you like.**

 **-Rhino109**


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